Dark Awakening
by Darknightdestiny
Summary: For seasonofthepumpkin. What if everything you'd experienced for the last thirty years was nothing but a dream? Slight VinTifa.


**Dark Awakening**

Rachel "D" Winslow

For  
Seasonofthepumpkin

The planet was all aglow.

There was no other way to describe the image that he was faced with then. It washed over his senses completely, burning itself a permanent place in his mind, so that he saw it even when he closed his eyes. The irridescent, green light was slowly breaking free, flowing from the planet's core, seeping to the surface through each and every tiny crack in the earth. There was a deafening roar, and the lights, condensed in their swirling form, yet brightening the entire sky, reached out with green ribbon fingers and threatened to pluck the unwelcomed chunk of rock from the face of the planet forever.

He would never have imagined that he would see the end of the world. Ever since he was a child, he'd seen how many years had taken their toll on the state of humanity, but as bad as the corruption had gotten, he would never have visualised himself standing over the abyss, staring into oblivion, watching as the planet struggled for her last dying breath. It was a horrific sight, and yet, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever gazed upon.

Perhaps, he mused, it was that part of him that found pleasure in destruction, that felt complete release in chaos, that brought a sense of peace over him. The planet would be smashed into bits, the pieces hurled into an infinite darkness, and he was content to watch as the universe was torn apart by the seams. The depths of the darkened earth were pulsating with the hot, white light, and the glowing tendrils reached up to the sky, winding around the great meteor like tresses, a bizarre dance for the last night in history. The stars revelled in it, proclaiming their glorious immunities from the heavens as they laughed in twinklings from above.

His eyes broke contact with the surreal ending for a moment. It was too much for his conscious mind to handle while maintaining his calm exterior. When he opened his eyes, he was looking at the others, who were also watching the spectacle from aboard the great airship.

He idly wondered if he would ever see any of them again.

As the lifestream welled up around the giant meteor, he wondered what the fate of humanity would be. Would the heavens decide that life on the planet wasn't worth keeping around, because it caused so much pain? Would her decision be the same, enlightened as she had become? Would she see fit that the entire planet was engulfed with the light, wreathed in the ecstasy it was so undeserving of, only to be destroyed by it?

Still so unsure whether it was worth it or not to have been given a sense of closure, a chance to be absolved of his past sins, he debated within himself whether or not he would rather have never awoken to the world he was living in. Would it have been better if he had remained locked away, oblivious to the state of the planet's duress, slowly dying in his tomb, vulnerable to his waning sanity? Was ignorance truly bliss? He was left with the new burden of deciding whether or not his last act in life was his greatest sin yet, and part of him mourned the death of the general.

He wondered if it had been worth it to find a purpose in life, a meaning to his existence, if not only to atone for his past crimes. Now that it was over, he was left without a purpose to return to, and so were the rest of them, since it seemed that all of history was about to come to an abrupt end. He hadn't even been successful in becoming friendly with any of the others, at least to any degree worth mentioning. Some of them had certain quirks and mannerisms that had endeared them to him, but he would never openly admit that, because he didn't deem himself worthy of feeling.

There was a sudden jolt, as the Highwind was lifted up in the grip of one of the green tendrils. He glanced over to his left, his eye catching a glimpse of the soft light wrapping itself around the hull of the ship. He turned to go back inside of the ship, to grab onto something stationary inside, and as he turned, he saw her, just standing there and watching, a look of fear on her face. She seemed in shock, unable to move herself or do anything but observe the destruction as it closed in around them.

Vincent grabbed Tifa and took her inside the ship.

They entered through the back, running through the hot engine room, past all of the gears that were clearly working on overdrive. He knew that when they reached the front of the ship, they would find Cid already there, trying his best to steer the ship away from the chaos that was engulfing the area. Just a little further, and they would be there.

Suddenly, the ship took a great beating to one side as a gust of energy tossed it about in the air. The walls creaked with such a great sound that he feared the entire vessel would be crushed. Before he knew what had happened, he was thrown to the side of the room with a tremendous force, and the world spun and faded into blackness.

When he awoke, he found himself faced down on the ground. When he looked up, he saw that the side of the ship was blown wide open. His eyes were level with rocky ground, that was sparsely covered with grass. The stars were still twinkling, unchanging in the night sky, never fading. He still heard the roaring outside of the ship, but he didn't see any sign of the battle, so he assumed it must have been placed behind them when the ship fell out of the sky.

Something stirred underneath of him, and he felt a weak hand reach up and grasp at his cloak. He looked down and saw her lying underneath of him, and she shook her head wearily, back and forth, her eyes still shut. She opened her mouth a small ways, and breathed out the quiet words, "Vincent...is that you?"

He didn't know what else to say, and so he merely replied with, "I am here."

"...I feel strange. Vincent, I can't feel my legs."

He looked down to where their torsoes met on the floor, and he saw the reason that she couldn't feel her legs. He reached his hand up and covered her eyes, using his metal arm for support. "...Keep them closed."

"Why? What's going on?"

He took in a sharp breath and grasped for the most graceful words he could find to let her know the situation they were in. "Tifa...I want you to prepare yourself. You and I...are not going to make it out of here alive. I want your last moments to be peaceful, so let your eyes remain shut. Please..."

She gave in and sighed, letting her head fall back onto the floor, doing as she was told and keeping her eyes shut. He watched her face crease with worry, and saw tears begin to seep through the closed corners of her eyes. He knew then that she was most likely mourning over the loss of those around her, since she would never know what happened to them, unless one of them miraculously came to retrieve the two of them from the engine room. She had never been one to worry about herself, and from the way she had fought, she wasn't afraid to die.

"...Are you in pain?" he finally asked her.

She shook her head. "...I can't feel anything below the waist," her voice shuttered as she spoke. "But I'm cold."

It was true; she was shivering, and her skin was paling, her mouth turning blue and the spaces underneath her eyes turning purple. "...You are not in pain above the waist?"

She shook her head, her hair making soft brushing sounds against the floor. She took in a large breath of air and admitted shakily, "My fingers are tingling." She let out the rest of the breath with a sigh and decided it was best that she keep silent.

It didn't seem fair to him that she should die this way, all alone in a room with him of all people. He always thought that he would die alone, unworthy of company, but she had so much left to live for, so many lives to touch. She was going to die without comfort, and without being able to speak any last words with any meaning to them, because there wasn't much that he could offer her in the way of peace.

"Vincent," she croaked out, barely able to speak. Her eyes were still closed, but the muscles were relaxed, as if she was lying still underneath of the sun. She would never see the sun again.

He shifted above her, and watched her with an intense gaze. "...What is it?"

She let out another shaking breath and continued. "...Do you feel...like...you..." She shook violently as a chill overcame her, but she settled after a short moment, he keeping her warm by placing his hand behind her head and pulling her towards him. "...Do you feel like you've finally atoned for your past?" she finished in a more quiet voice, fighting the liquid that welled up in the back of her throat.

Did he? He thought about it, and he decided that he didn't think he had, since he might have committed another sin by killing the son of his beloved, and now yet another by failing to save the life of another so innocent and young, with a full life ahead of her. Then again, he couldn't be sure that any of them were going to live either way. As far as he knew, the entire human race was going to be destroyed.

He knew he had to pacify her with an answer, and since she lay there dying, as did he, he decided it had better be one that she would be satisfied with. "...There is no point in worrying over things that cannot be changed."

She raised her head, and she would have looked at him, had her eyes been opened. "...Because we're going to die?"

He nodded, but realized she couldn't see him. "...Yes."

She sighed. "There wasn't anything you could do before...and I always thought the same thing. Vincent...I don't want you to die. You have to have some happiness before you go."

He looked down to the blood pooling on the floor beneath them, their separate streams mingling together before they met on the surface, caking to the floor together. "...It is too late for that, I am afraid."

Her eyes shot open in protest. "Why?" she exclaimed, and she let out a cough. "Even if someone finds us? Nothing can be-"

Her voice was cut short and her eyes went wide when she saw the large beam protruding from his back, and she knew that he wouldn't be getting up again. She had't understood why he'd been on top of her the entire time and hadn't moved, but she had assumed it was because he was protecting her from something. She understood then that it was because he was pinned against her, trapped under the beam and fastened to the floor.

Tears fell from her face as she watched him helplessly, knowing that neither of them could do anything about their fate. Even if he had been able to summon his strength and remove the beam, it would mean the death of both of them, and since they were going to die anyways, it was best that they cherish the moments they had.

Part of her wished it would all end soon.

He let out a bitter huff and a rueful smile barely graced his lips. "...I told you to keep your eyes shut."

She reached up and pulled the hair away from his face. It had fallen down over his eyes and hidden him from view as he hovered above, and he was clearly tired and ready to give in. Her face was hot and wet, and it twisted with heartache over and over again as her memories of her times in AVALANCHE returned to her when she studied his face. She gently coaxed him down towards her with her hand and let him rest.

"...So this is the end, then?" she asked, knowing that it was. "You know...there was so much that I wanted to do, but now I've forgotten what all of it was." She ran her fingers through his hair absently, hoping to soothe his tortured soul in his last moments. A harsh but random thought occurred to her, and she couldn't help but voice her concern. "...This is going to be slow, isn't it?"

She felt a small nod against her shoulder and she let her head fall to the side, her eyes closing again to the blurred image of red on metal and wood.

"Tifa..." a soft voice drifted up to her.

She breathed a sigh and let out another shaky breath. "Yes, Vincent?"

"...I want you to know that you were always a pleasure to have around..." he began, and she started to cry again. "And though I never said it was so...you were an encouragement...to all of us..."

She let the tears fall, but her face remained relaxed. She couldn't have stopped it if she'd tried, nor would she have wanted to. Hearing him talk like that made her so incredibly sad, and yet, she couldn't have asked for a better way to spend her last moments. "Vincent...thank you. I never would have forgotten you. I don't know what it's like on the other side, but I hope that I get to see you again."

He felt a quick burst of something he'd not felt in a long time. As he lay there, he knew that he would die peacefully, and not alone as he'd feared. He had hoped for so much better for her, but it would not come. All he could do was push himself back up and land a small kiss on her forehead.

And then his vision left him, and he fell into darkness.

X-X-X-X

Light broke into view from all corners of his mind. All he could see was blinding rays shooting at him through the darkness, until all that was present was white. He tried forcing his eyes wide, wondering if they were really even open in the first place. When all came into clear view, he found himself staring at a white plastered surface.

There was muffled shouting in the background as he tried to adjust his senses to his new location. He recognized the white plaster as a ceiling, judging by the edges. The white was almost calming, but it was something his eyes were not used to. The atmosphere was frantic, and his ears started to pick up more hints of hurried conversation. He still had not regained his full abilities, however.

White...was this heaven? He smirked at the thought. Heaven was a place he had never hoped to visit, and he found his stereotypical version a bit laughable when he considered he was lying somewhere underneath a white plastered ceiling, and when he saw that there was a small smudge on the surface of it. He had always been the observant type.

At once, he felt himself being held down, and a sharp pain escaped his right arm before it completely disappeared. He had felt like something had been drawn from him suddenly, and he felt the muscle twitch and spasm.

Hell, perhaps? He didn't want to go back to his old nightmares, dark nights filled with painful procedures and needles aplenty.

A sharp and burning light appeared in his left eye and he squinted to find a man behind the light, shining it at him, expecting something out of him. He gasped, trying to wrench free from the grasps of those around him, but they held onto his right arm tightly, and to his waist. His right arm...

"What do you want from me?!" he screamed.

"Vincent Valentine?" the man from behind the light addressed him. "I want you to follow my finger with your eyes." He held one finger up and Vincent followed it with his eyes for the sake of procedure, not knowing what they would do to him if he didn't cooperate, and having been trained quite nicely to do what he was told whenever he was on a table.

"What is going on?" he asked. His voice had dropped to one of strained and frantic questioning, no longer angry but helpless. "Where am I?"

"Mr. Valentine, you are at the North Ridge Hospital, right outside of Gongaga. You were rushed here right after the accident. Do you know what happened?"

Vincent thought back to the last incident he could remember, but his thoughts were to frantic, to muddled. Then it hit him like a ton of bricks. "The others..."

"Mr. Valentine, what are you talking about?"

"...I should have died," he mused aloud and to himself. Then his voice grew in volume. "Tifa...where is she?" The man looked at him with a face bent in confusion, without a clue as to what he was talking about. Vincent repeated himself. "Tifa Lockheart...there was a girl...where is she?" The doctor just held his arms up and shook his head. Vincent tried to rise up, and he was about ready to grab the doctor by his coat and demand that he tell him what was going on, but the others in the room held him down firmly by his arm and his legs. He glanced down to his left and noticed that his arm was missing. "My arm...where did it go?"

The doctor looked down and said to him, "There was an incident-"

"I understand that! What happened to the others? And where did you put my arm?!" he shouted.

"Mr. Valentine, please calm yourself. You're delusional..."

"Tell me what happened!"

"Mr. Valentine, you've been in a coma."

Vincent's face faulted, stunned by the news. He regained his composure and found his voice. "...What year is it?"

"It is the year 12,568."

Vincent shook his head. "No...no, it was 12,597 when I was last awake."

The doctor frowned. "No, I'm afraid you are mistaken. It was the year 12,567 when you were last awake. You've been in a coma for one year. Do you remember what happened?"

Vincent stared the doctor down like he was a madman. "I am telling you, it is the year 12,598 if I have been asleep for a year. What happened with the state of the planet? Was Meteor destroyed?"

The doctor lowered his head into his hand and massaged the bridge of his nose slowly. "Mr. Valentine, please try to understand. I know that you've undergone some trauma, and you are probably still hanging on to that. When the professor shot you-"

"He has paid for what he has done," Vincent bit out, cutting the doctor off in mid-sentence. It was a statement, and not a question, but still the doctor replied.

"Yes, he has. He will stand trial immediately. You were found at the scene, and you were rushed here as quickly as possible. We've had to amputate your arm; there was no way it could have been saved. You are lucky he missed your heart, but it seems the blood loss set you in a prolonged state of unconsciousness."

Vincent paused, his eyes wide in fear. "What are you saying?"

"I am saying that Professor Hojo will be punished for his attempted act of homicide. However, I would like to run some more tests on you before you return to work. Your mind is fragile at this stage, you must understand that. You are clearly suffering from emotional trauma, and I have no clue what the possibility of physical damage to your brain might be. I'll want to run some scans, have you perform some exercises-"

"But what about the others?"

"Mr. Valentine, I have no clue as to whom you are referring. Perhaps you are remembering some dream you had while you were asleep?"

"No!" Vincent shook his head vehemently. "It was not a dream. I was there, and it was as real as anything I have ever experienced." A thought struck him and he wrenched free of the now relaxed grips of the assistants, throwing the cover away from himself to reveal his bare chest and a pair of blue dress slacks. His fingers roamed over his abdomen, searching for the wound, a scratch even, anything to prove that he wasn't going insane. "Where did it go...?" he breathed out, panic taking its toll on him.

"Mr. Valentine, I have already explained this to you. The bullet missed your chest, and hit your arm."

Vincent shook his head in disbelief to find himself dressed in the pants he had worn thirty years ago. "What game are you playing at?" he demanded.

The doctor held his hands up in front of himself defensively. "Mr. Valentine, this is no game! You've been through a serious ordeal! Please...calm yourself!"

Vincent gritted his teeth and forced the words out under his dark and threatening brown-eyed stare. "But what about the others?"

"There were no others," the doctor replied, hoping that Vincent was going to calm down.

"Liar!" he shouted back. "They were in the ship! You mean to tell me you did not find her there, trapped beneath me?"

The doctor didn't know what to make out of anything that Vincent was saying, and all he could do was shake his head. "The only people that we found in the room were you and Hojo. Funny thing...he called us himself, turned himself in..."

"No! That cannot be...he would never do that. He is the reason the planet was nearly destroyed..."

The doctor hung his head in despair, then turned to one of the nurses standing nearby. "Lara, would you go ahead and order those tests, please?"

Vincent watched helplessly as she left to do as she was told. He looked around the room and saw that all the others were watching him with a strange look in their eyes, as if they feared him, thought him strange, and maybe even pitied him. He suddenly remembered that there hadn't been a hospital near Gongaga ever since he had worked for the Turks. His eyes wandered down his body to stare at the offending blue fabric.

"Mr. Valentine, until the tests are completed, I'm going to have to ask you to stay here. You don't have to worry about security, President ShinRa has assured us that you will have your job when you are well again, and I was told to tell you. He was worried about his prize assassin-"

"Assassin?!" Vincent shouted. "Why?" He backed up into the opposite wall and let himself slide slowly to the floor, a longer curtain of his hair falling forward to hide his eyes. His right arm, the only one he had left, reached back behind his head, and he found that the hair in the back of his mane was once again short. "It matters not..." he found the words leaving his mouth easily. "A one-armed assassin is of no use to him-"

"There are many advances in technology when it comes to prosthetics, Mr. Valentine," the doctor offered.

"It matters not..." Vincent repeated. "I have no wish to work for the President."

"Well..." the doctor continued, "I'm no expert on the matter, but don't you kind of...have to?"

Vincent knew this already. He'd signed a contract on the authority of his life. He would work for ShinRa until he was finished with him, or until he died. If he tried to back out, he would most likely be killed. "It matters not..." he repeated. "It matters not..."

"Mr. Valentine, are you going to be all right?" the doctor cautiously crept over to him.

Suddenly, Vincent's head was thrust back, and he cried out and hit it against the wall over and over again. It was just another nightmare. It had to be. It had all seemed so real, and he had made such progress; he would never have wanted to go through what he had there, but at least there he wasn't an assassin.

It couldn't have been a dream! It was all too perfect, too carefully thought out to be an image sprung from his own chaotic mind. He remembered it all too clearly, and he still felt the wetness at his fingertips from her face, still felt the hotness on his skin from where it floated up from her eyes when she cried. He could still remember the way her skin had felt, cold as her life was slowly drained away, her fingers like ice in his hair.

He slammed his head back one final time into the wall, a small crack forming behind him, despite the doctor's constant protests that he was only going to hurt himself. His chest heaved and hot tears escaped his eyes as he stared at the white plastered ceiling. He stared up at it and watch all of the crooked lines merge together as his vision blurred and the heated water washed over his senses. His throat became tight and all he could taste and smell was the salt of his own sorrow. Somehow, it didn't seem as strong as it had been in the past.

When all others had left the room on his insistence, he was left alone on the floor, as he had no motivation or want to move. He did not want to return to his sleep, and he did not want to be tortured with a world that never was. Instead, he spent his night on the floor of the hospital, sleepless for the first time in a year.

**End**

_Final Fantasy VII and its characters © 1997 Square-Enix Co., Ltd._


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